Pages

February 18, 2014

When I was a kid, Disney’s Tarzan had no political meaning to me. Who wouldn’t love the story
oflittle wild boy, raised by gorillas
when his human parents fell victim to an evil jungle cat, having adventures
with his animal pals and falling in love with Jane? And of course the music’s great.

But sitting in senior year AP Calc, three weeks after my
senior prom, I saw the movie differently. I took a girl to my senior prom –
she’s still my girlfriend. My mom stood anxiously to the side while my dad took
photograph after photograph of their daughter in a short pink dress standing
hand in hand with a girl in a tuxedo vest and blue tie. Mom smiled through a
grimace, and I ignored her loud and clear discomfort in favor of chasing a
stereotypical prom experience.

And so we sat in AP Calc watching Tarzan. I pulled my desk
up next to a close friend – he’d recently started dating a guy and been outed,
very late the night before, to an unhappy mother and an irate stepfather. He
was still wearing the ratty gym shorts he’d left the house in and a hoodie
belonging to his maybe-boyfriend. I knew the dark circles under his eyes and
the Xanax in his jacket pocket with intimate familiarity.

And so I watched Tarzan
through brand new eyes. Not only did I catch a buried Heart of Darkness
reference – a young gorilla shouting “The Horror!” at the excess of the human
campsite – but suddenly Tarzan’s story seemed like a full-color metaphor for
discovering sexual identity and coming out.

A young man, always slightly different from his family and
never accepted by his father, begins to discover his own identity – true, in
the movie it isn’t explicitly his sexual identity, but the connections are
there – it is after all a romance
that leads him to his self-discovery.

I found that the music was practically speaking to me.
Listen, though – “Strangers Like Me.”

“I wanna know, can you show
me

I wanna know about these

strangers like me

Tell me more, please show me

Something's familiar about these strangers like me”

Maybe it’s just me. But this is exactly how I felt when I was
first coming out (at 13) and meeting other gay people – especially older
teenagers and adults. I was enthralled and I felt a sense of connection I had
never before felt with complete strangers.

It’s a romantic song with “she” pronouns so of course that emphasized
my connection with the song.

“Every gesture, every move that she makes

Makes me feel like never before

Why do I have

This growing need to be beside her

Ooo, these emotions I never knew

Of some other world far beyond this place

Beyond the trees, above the clouds

I see before me a new horizon”

This is a perfect stanza for how I felt the first time I had
a crush on a girl. And it’s from Tarzan, for
heaven’s sake.

And then the song gets into describing my initial feelings
about the gay rights movement:

“Whatever you do, I'll do it too

Show me everything and tell me how

It all means something

And yet nothing to me

I can see there's so much to learn

It's all so close and yet so far

I see myself as people see me

Oh, I just know there's something

bigger out there”

These stanzas, for me, reflected my realization that being
gay was about more than who I fell in love with – there is a political side to
the identity, and there are important political issues in play. “It all means
something and yet nothing to me”? Although I understand that my civil rights
are important, when I was first coming out, civil rights were the last thing on
my mind. I just wanted to know if I would ever have a girlfriend and if I would
get to go to a dance with a girl and if I would kiss a girl and if and if and
if; the only times I thought about civil rights led to 13-year-old me sitting
in a corner and crying because it literally seemed like the whole world was
against me. When I should have been able to think about nothing but crushes and
first kisses I was haunted by the knowledge that I was now legally inferior.

And I think Tarzan feels that. This is where the movie
really speaks to me:

Tarzan is finally discovering who he is. He’s discovering
why he’s different from his family and friends, and he’s discovering that this
difference is why his father rejects him. He’s realizing that his father
rejects him not because of something he has done but because of who he is. And I think that sounds like an
experience common to a lot of gay people – feeling rejection and alienation not
because of something you’ve done but just because of who you are, because of
your intrinsic identity, and worst of all – often because you’ve finally been
honest about who you are.

I’ve felt that. I heard people mutter “fag” and “dyke” and
“hell” and felt it like a blunted knife because they didn’t know me and I’d
never done anything to them – maybe never even spoken to them. But they could
see this part of my identity – this incredibly personal part – and they turned
it from something wonderful into something painful.

Tarzan is delighted to encounter strangers like
him. He’s overjoyed to finally understand who and what he is, even if that
knowledge is painful. But his identity is used against him, and he has to fight
with not only his enemies but even his father and even himself to reconcile
this new identity with his family life.

February 11, 2014

“Face pic or no
reply”—This is something that I’ve read all too often when perusing for man
candy. Yes, us gays have finally emerged from our black hole of not ever
knowing how to find another queer man to canoodle with; now, it’s as simple as
tapping that little orange app with a skull on it, and before you know it,
almost every gay schlong within a 50-mile radius is at your fingertips. Finding
a hookup, date, or even a husband is as easy as opening Grindr and chatting up
that stud with cute eyes that describes himself as “outgoing and charismatic”—and
is evidently only 2354 feet away. It’s every gay man’s dream, right?

Believe it or not, the Grindr life isn’t all that perfect.
Yes, it’s possible to find some random guy to have sex with. And yes, sex with
someone at least moderately attractive can be very fun. But I’ve come to a
point where I’m nearly exhausted with Grindr and its blatantly shallow
undertones. A typical Grindr day starts out with checking your new messages:
usually a couple of spambots (impossibly hot guys that are apparently 1034
miles away), an extremely pervy older man, and if you’re lucky, someone who you
think might be slightly sex-able. You get a closer look at the pic (whoa, he
didn’t look like he had that many chins a second ago??), delete the convo he
oh-so-ambitiously tried to begin, and then you move onto the home page. Here,
you can see a basic lineup of the 50 gays physically closest to you. Sounds
overwhelming, right? Yeah, very wrong. You’ve probably already tried to chat
most of them up, only to find no reply, or they have tried to speak to you,
with your better judgment telling you to delete that conversation (which you do,
thank God).

And finally, glistening on the horizon, you find a beautiful
specimen: A boy both semi-attractive AND your age. You have to message him
something that you know won’t seem overbearing, or even too clever; you don’t
want him to think you’re too ambitious or intelligent, because apparently,
other gays hate that. “Hey” is the standard greeting of a Grindr conversation.
Rousing, ain’t it? Usually, the guy will follow up with an equally entertaining…drumroll…“hey.”
And from there, things really get spicy! “What’s up?” you say. “Nothin much.
What about you?” “Same.” Wow. Intense.

Now, why am I forcing you through this almost painful, yet typical,
Grindr conversation? (Or lack thereof, really.) Honestly, it’s because I am so
completely and utterly mentally done with Grindr. It distorts your reality of
actually meeting people, making you think that love is just a click away. But
really, it isn’t—when you’re on a website where the primary goal is to hook up,
you’re not going to find someone you want to be dating. And that’s what I
finally realize I want, I guess; I want to be dating someone; I want the intimacy to actually mean something—to
actually be intimate. And I’m sure a lot of you feel that way.

Recently, I finally deleted the Grindr app—and I’ve never
been happier. It's been pushing me to put myself out into the world more and
more ach day, and actually try to meet and socialize with human beings. So,
here’s my challenge to my fellow Grindr-loving gays: try deleting Grindr for a
week. Try to meet some new people. You’d be surprised what kind of great guys
could be right in front of you.

February 4, 2014

Most Americans know what LGBT means, and many people have already postedblogs about the various identities within the queer community. However, there are some who remain in the dark (willingly or unwillingly) about the extent of gender diversity. To clear up any confusion, and perhaps a few misconceptions, here is LGBT's full acronym (and I think I've missed a few):

Transsexual: a person who has physically altered his or her body to match their gender identity

Queer: anyone who breaks gender norms; the word "queer" is often used to represent the entire LGBTTQQIAPK community

Questioning: person unsure of sexual orientation

Intersex: person who does not fit neatly into the male or female categories

Asexual: person attracted to neither sex

Pansexual: in the words of Lyla Cicero, a blogger for UnderCoverintheSuburbs.comwho has a doctorate in clinical psychology,"a refusal to define sexual orientation from binary notions of gender" (see, I did miss a few letters, since her acronym is longer than mine: LGGBTQQIAAPK; the extra "g" and "a" stand for genderqueer and androgynous, respectively)

Kink: while perhaps politically incorrect, the word kink describes "fetishes" or private sexual activities people enjoy with their lovers in the bedroom (and before anyone rushes to conclusions about "sexual deviants" within the LGBTTQQIAPK community, there are plenty of straight people who enjoy literotica.com, porn websites, and theFifty Shades of Grey series)

A few notes on the above descriptions: Gay men and lesbian women rarely refer to themselves as homosexuals, just as straight people don't refer to themselves as heterosexuals. Transsexuals don't call themselves transsexuals either; they may call themselves "transsexual men" or "transsexual women," but more often than not they identify as either man or woman. While lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and transsexual are easily identifiable sexual orientations, queer, questioning, intersex, asexual, pansexual, and kink are not, and they may not be taken as seriously. People identifying with the latter are not "confused" or "misguided," and we have no right to tell them so. They are what they identify with. We just have to deal with it.

To conclude, I'll address three hypothetical complaints:

"Why should I spend time learning about gender identity? Why should the LGBT community get any special attention?"

If you're asking this question, you are probably one of many people who perpetuates queer stereotypes and uses offensive gender terminology on a regular basis. Take some time to learn about LGBTTQQIAPK people - maybe even TALK to a few rather than assuming things about them - so you can be a little more enlightened. They need "special attention" (if you insist on calling it that) just like any minority group needs attention: to identify the issues they face and to make sure they don't have to continue facing them.

"The title is too long!"

No one is requiring you to write out the entire acronym or even know what each letter stands for (the most I write is LGBTQ). It's just good to be informed so you don't rely on prejudicial assumptions to describe the queer community.

"Aren't people just making up gender identities now? Should people even be allowed to claim anything beyond LGBT?"

No to the first question, yes to the second. It's a good thing, not bad, that people are refusing to follow gender norms imposed upon us by homophobia, sexism, and other old-fashioned, oppressive gender-controlling social institutions. Some of us have finally realized that girls aren't required to like pink to be girls, that boys can wear high heels and still be boys, and that we shouldn't even be forced to choose between male and female. If you're uncomfortable with gender flexibility, that's just tough. It's time to break social habits and accept the fact that gender isn't as straightforward and repressive as it used to be.

To use the words of Lyla Cicero again, "if that acronym [LGGBTQQIAAPK] looks a bit absurd, it speaks to the absurdity of thinking there are a few isolated "sexual minorities" while the rest of the human race is "normal" and fairly similar." There is no singular "normal" regarding gender. Normality in sexuality is whatever orientation, or lack thereof, the individual feels comfortable declaring. At present, gender norms are still "females do this, males do that." The term "gender norm" needs to be replaced by gender freedom.

December 5, 2013

I always get really
retrospective around the holidays, and for good reasons I suppose. Moving from
Thanksgiving to Christmas and eventually the New Year marks a year of change,
good and bad, and the beginning of new experiences. Looking back a year ago, I
was living two lives. I had recently come out to my mom, which she was really
receptive of. I expected nothing less since her best friend is gay; she had
been an advocate of gay rights since I could remember, and she had always made
sure that myself, my brother, and my dad were sensitive to using “gay” as a
slur. I guess that’s mother’s intuition, as she wasn’t surprised when I told
her. She thought that I might have been gay since I was three years old. In a
way, this disappointed me. I wanted some sort of shock factor, not in a
negative way but in the “holy shit, I didn’t expect that, that’s dope and I’m
happy for you,” sort of way. Following my mom, I came out to all of my high
school friends that I still associated with. I suppose this started a ripple
effect in my life and the double life I was living was increasingly blurred. My
brother took the news with ease, my fraternity was, and still is, extremely
supportive.

The beginning of October
marked the dreaded time to tell my conservative father. My mo had kept my
secret for a year, and it was fed up with not having told my dad. I was
accepted to an LGBTQ conference, O4UTC, for members of the community interested
in technology. I was going to fly back to California, my home state, and spend
the day with my parents on Sunday. I couldn’t just show up unannounced and my
dad isn’t dumb, so it came time to burst out the doors, once again. My dad was,
well, less than receptive. I expected that much, but it still hurt to see my
fears materialize into reality. I quickly ran to my support systems and vented.
My mom reassuring me that he’ll come around, in a few years.

This Thanksgiving break
marked the end of my immediate coming out journey. I know it’s always a
process, but for now I’m done telling people. My dad had instructed me not to
tell any of my other family members and I didn’t. But, my social media outlets
are pretty transparent. Family on my dad’s side saw an Instagram post of me in
rainbow suspenders with a caption that outed me, #sorrynotsorry. Fortunately I
went to Chicago, to my mom’s side of the family, for Thanksgiving and didn’t
have to deal with that situation right away. In a similar fashion, tweeting was
the outing mechanism. I assumed my cousins knew since they followed me, but
they were dancing around the subject for days. Eventually I just said it, and
as I thought, they already knew. What took my by complete surprise was when my
aunt casually asked me over breakfast if I had a “boyfriend?” My jaw dropped as
I looked back and forth from her to my uncle. The word “boyfriend” rang in my
ears for minutes as the look of disbelief waned from my face. She informed me
that my whole family knew, including my extremely Catholic grandparents. She
assured me that no one cared and that everyone still loved me the same. This
time, I didn’t care about the shock factor. As my personal astonishment
subsided, I was happy I didn’t have to tell anyone anymore. My mom’s family
sees me as me. I’m still Alex, the same as I have been.

For now, I’m happy with who
knows and if anyone else finds out, that’s cool too. Being gay isn’t going to
change for me anytime soon, or anytime at all. I’ve come to terms with myself
and have countless people who really care about me. It’s been a whirlwind of a
year in terms of personal growth and I’m excited to see what the new year will
bring for me. Until next time.

December 2, 2013

Once upon a time, I had just started dating my girlfriend
Jacqueline. It was senior year of high school and my mom wasn’t quite used to
me dating a girl yet.

I knew that; I expected most of her reactions – double
takes, awkward pauses when someone at church asked her if I had a boyfriend, a
slow sort of uncertainty when she asked me any question about my relationship.

She was good about it. She wasn’t really shocked to hear
that I was gay even if she wasn’t quite ready for it. She might not have been delighted
about it but she was never cruel or angry and she was always supportive, and I
know that that is a blessed, lucky experience.

But as always, little golden accidents make the best
stories.

Freudian slips are a natural part of life – little kids call
their teachers “Mom” all the time, and all through high school I accidentally
(and eventually on purpose) called Pep Rallies Prep Rallies instead.

So: senior year of high school. All my friends and I (and
Jacqui) spent most afternoons at a little independent coffee shop near our high
school. I lived near the coffee shop, so we ran into my parents as often as
not.

Now, it’s worth noting that my parents had met Jacqui
several times – they certainly knew her name. I saw my parents in the other
room and we all went to say hi. They hugged me, greeted all my friends by
name,
until my Mom got to Jacqui.

“Hi, Jackson,” she said.

And that was an awkward pause. Like the catch in your chest
right after you fall flat on your back, a little forced moment of silence until
she laughed.

“I don’t know where that came from! I was thinking about
Jackson Pollack earlier, and I guess since you’re into art…”

What’s in a name?

It’s a good question. Obviously my mother hadn’t forgotten
my girlfriend’s name. But she tweaked it just enough to be pretty
unquestionably male.

Jacqui gets that kind of thing a lot. Just this past
Saturday we went on a Thanksgiving hike – a frozen trail two miles up a
mountain, but that’s another story altogether – and at a rest stop, a kindly
old lady warned her that she was about to walk into the women’s restroom.
Obviously she meant well, and she apologized upon realizing her mistake.

My mother, though, that was unique. I still don’t know what
to make of it.

I saw it again over Thanksgiving. I was chilling with my
favorite cousin, who is trans. He is not out as trans to his father’s side of
the family – which is the side our relations are on. So I heard his “female”
name half a million times over the meal. Considering the discomfort I felt, I
can only imagine how he felt.

What is in a name?

According to my English teacher, a misfit name can lead to a
crisis of identity, as in Faulkner’s short story “A Justice” and in Saul
Bellow’s “Seize the Day.”

“Ma’am,” and “Sir,” and misappropriations of our names often
coincide with how we present. My name, Gabriel, is traditionally male, so it is
misspelled and mispronounced as Gabriella more often than not since I present
as fairly traditionally female – I have long hair, at least.

Maybe this anecdote doesn’t say anything significant about
sexuality and society, but I think it speaks to our reaction to the disconnect
between expectation and reality – or maybe I’ve just taken too many English
classes.

What’s in a name?

Maybe nothing. Shakespeare wasn’t overly concerned, as long as the rose by any
other name still smelled as sweet. But Faulkner’s Sam Fathers and Saul Bellow’s
Tommy Wilhelm would beg to differ, as I would. I appreciate the androgyny of my
name. Considering the assumptions I already face based on my gender, I like
that someone reading an email from me or even an application can’t necessarily
tell my gender by my name. In a situation where my gender is irrelevant, it’s
not unnecessarily revealed. But names, nicknames, the way we choose to
communicate with others, it’s all a part of our identity, our presentation. The
way others react affects us, one way or the other – So I think I’m with Sam
Had-
Two-Fathers.

Search our lives

recent comments

recent posts

this week's events

F 12.6.13Kickback Fridays3-5pm, CSGD

submit an anonymous entry

Some of our most interesting entries come from anonymous contributors. Everything sent in using this survey is collected over the week and posted every Monday. We promise: everything's completely anonymous and we'll post anything as long as it doesn't contain personal attacks or hate speech. For more information, check this out.